


Told you so

by WolfeyKitten



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Dandelion is a thot, Gen, Merpeople, geralt kills a monster, merman Jaskier, otherwise canon setting, you know how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfeyKitten/pseuds/WolfeyKitten
Summary: Geralt is a monster hunter, Jaskier is a merman... can I make it any more obvious?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 159





	Told you so

**Author's Note:**

> I am shocked, appalled, disgusted, ashamed that there isn’t more mermaid content in this fandom. You’re welcome! 
> 
> No, I kid, but uhhh I wrote this with both the show and the games in mind, but I think the setting and characterization are more in line with witcher 3. Should be fine if you only saw the show though. Thanks for reading!

_ Witcher, or similarly gifted monster hunter requested:  _

_ A creature most foul has snatched away my lovely bride. I will pay good coin for her safe return and the monster’s head. See Arthur for more details.  _

It was an ordinary posting. There were not many superfluous details, and it got straight to the point. Some sort of damsel in some sort of distress. Geralt appreciated a procedural, mundane job like this. 

He pulled the listing from the bulletin board outside a Novigrad tavern and stepped inside to ask the barkeep where to find Arthur.

* * *

Geralt was right. There wasn’t much to the contract. From Arthur’s description, Geralt was able to identify the beast as a siren or a nixa… or maybe even a lamia. Being nestled against the coast here in Novigrad, sirens weren’t an uncommon problem, especially when it came to disappearances. It wasn’t likely that he would find the woman  _ alive _ , but it was possible… sirens sometimes indulged in  _ playing  _ with their food. 

As Geralt navigated the rocky crags that separated sea from land, Arthurs description still pulled at his mind. Something about his words seemed a little  _ off,  _ his client described the creature as vicious and bloodthirsty, with the body of a human and the tail of a fish. That is an apt description of a siren, but when Geralt asked about their numbers, the man said it had been alone. Most men who lay eyes on a siren can’t help but divulge their unearthly beauty since they take the form of a nymph-like woman regardless of its sex, but he failed to mention it, referring only to the creature with contempt and disgust. And even as sea spray made his skin sticky with salt, he did not see any signs of a colony. 

Geralt was beginning to doubt that the contract was indeed for a siren. He stepped off of a barnacle-ledden sea rock and his boot plodded unceremoniously against course sand. There was a tiny alcove of beach that separated the mouth of a cave from the tumultuous sea waters that lapped outside, and still he had encountered no beasts, not even a drowner as he stepped inside. 

His careful footsteps hardly echoed against the damp cave walls. It was comfortable as he ventured inside-- though it was dark, he could see fine, and his skin was finally granted respite from the uncomfortable dampness of the constant sea spray. His sensitive ears picked up on a sound… a singing voice, lilting and beautiful, which should have been a dead ringer for a siren’s presence. Except, Geralt had never heard a siren sing in that register before. 

As he drew closer, he could hear a gentle strumming, though he couldn’t quite make out the lyrics. They must have been funny, though, because the singer paused and he heard a feminine laugh.  _ The woman.  _ Geralt paused as the puzzle pieces fell into place. 

So maybe Arthur had embellished his tale a little. Maybe he didn’t want to admit that he was being cuckolded by a fish. Geralt wondered if he should keep going. At this point he knew he wasn’t going to get paid… there was no monster here to kill. Just a merman and an unsatisfied housewife… but even witchers weren’t immune to the  _ siren song,  _ as they say. 

He sheathed his silver sword and relaxed his muscles. Merpeople, unlike their siren cousins, weren’t dangerous. They were intelligent beings capable of reason, but like humans, were not incapable of wrongdoings... cuckoldry being one of those wrongdoings. 

When the merman came into view, he was perched on the shore of a clear pool, colorful urchins and barnacles framing his pedestal and glowing in the soft lamplight. The woman sat on dry land nearby, her soft features alight with a childish happiness as he played for her. The merman’s damp drown hair was pushed out of his eyes, and Geralt could even tell their rich blue hue from here. He wasn’t anything special, but he had an obvious charisma about him, as all merpeople do. Geralt leaned against the craggy cave wall to watch, his arms crossing over his chest nonchalantly. Merpeople were quite rare, so he relished this time to observe one in his natural habitat. 

The couple didn’t notice him. He watched the merman play the lute, his fingers skilled with the land instrument, and he wondered how a sea-dwelling creature ever found opportunity to learn it. The vocal accompaniment was charming as well, but that was to be expected from a merperson. He could have gone unnoticed all night if he had wanted, but he didn’t really want to stay when the two shared a less-than-chaste kiss, so he quickly made himself known. 

“Alright, alright, Annalise, I’m here to take you home.” The two jumped as Geralt stepped out of the shadows. Annalise let out a brief cry, and the merman squinted in annoyance and confusion. Geralt could just hear him mutter “My god, is that a witcher?” under his breath. 

Annalise looked down. “Did Arthur send you? I’m sure he told you I was kidnapped.  _ Don’t  _ listen to that fool. Leave us, witcher.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You’re leaving your husband for a merman? Hate to break it to you, but relationships with monsters  _ don’t  _ work out. You’re better off with someone your own kind.” The addendum was bitter, but not untrue. Geralt knew from experience. 

“That’s not true!” Annalise started. “Jaskier loves me. Better than Arthur ever could.” 

Geralt shifted on his feet, his arms still crossed. “Mhm, and I bet he told you you’d be together forever, and he’s never known another like you before. Merpeople are silver-tongued by nature. They say what you want to hear.” Where they lacked the poisonous barbs and claws and teeth of their cousins, they made up with glamour.

Geralt ignored the indignant “Hey!” from the merman. 

The woman didn’t relent. “Not Jaskier. He’s different.” 

Geralt sighed. “That’s what they all say. The fish lures in their victims and puts them under their spell. You’re being controlled.” 

Jaskier put his lute down, crossed his arms, and looked away. “Well that’s just not true,” he huffed, but the woman glanced at him sideways.

Geralt continued. “Once you’re under their control, they coax you into a false sense of security. Just when you think they’d never hurt you, that’s when the  _ teeth  _ come out.” Geralt bared his own teeth for emphasis, and the woman jumped. At this point, perhaps the witcher was having a little too much fun with this. He wasn’t outright lying, but maybe it wasn’t the complete truth. 

Annalise shifted away from Jaskier while the creature attempted some damage control. He reached out for her. “Anna, no, it’s not true. Well, it’s mostly not true--” 

“ _ Mostly!?”  _ The woman flinched at the webbed hand and looked back at Geralt. “What happens after the  _ teeth  _ come out?” Her voice was afraid. 

“Oh, you know. Don’t make me say it.” At this point, Annalise’s mind was like;y running wild.

She stood up and inched away from Jaskier. He couldn’t pursue her, what with his lack of legs and whatnot. “Wait, Annalise! I wouldn’t  _ eat  _ you or anything!” For such a charismatic creature, Jaskier was failing terribly when it came to assuring the girl that he was harmless. 

Annalise started into a run and headed wordlessly for the cave’s entrance. Geralt watched her as she ran passed, and then turned back to Jaskier with one eyebrow raised. The merman was fuming. 

“Damn it, witcher. She was a fine woman.” His tail tip thudded in annoyance against the stone floor. It was long and slender and blue, with soft-looking frills that probably looked gorgeous when they were flayed out underwater. 

“Yeah, and she was also spoken for. Maybe if you were a little more careful with who you sleep with, a nobleman wouldn’t endeavor to make it my business.” Geralt’s voice was gravelly, with a hint of annoyance. 

“You people are exactly as they say. You’d even tear apart star-crossed lovers for a little coin.” Jaskier pouted. 

“Mhm, that’s what we do,” Geralt growled. The contract was for the monster’s head, so he already knew he wasn’t getting the coin he was promised. He might be able to negotiate a few crowns for the woman’s return, but it won’t be the amount promised. Wrestling crowns out of these Novigrad nobles is like pulling teeth. Geralt turned around to leave. “Don’t cause any more trouble, merman. You don’t want to have to see my face twice.” 

He supposed he was intimidating enough, because the fish didn’t protest anymore. Maybe he was learning to count his blessings, but probably not. Geralt considered himself a good judge of character, and he could already tell that Jaskier was stubborn… he had a feeling that they’d be seeing each other again.

* * *

The bestiary had next to no information on merpeople… Geralt knew they were rare, but it was strange that he knew so little about them. He jotted down a few notes of his own. 

_ No wings like a siren. More graceful like a betta, where sirens are sharp like sharks. In disposition, far more-- _

He searched for the right word. 

_ Human. _

Maybe Jaskier didn’t deserve to be in the bestiary, no more than witchers deserved to be. He jotted down a few more notes regardless. The ethics of it weren’t his concern. 

_ Stubborn, huffy, and clumsy. Charismatic features. Singing voice like honey. Pretty face.  _

Of course he was pretty, he was a merman. It’s part of their gig. Their beauty is like an angler’s bait. Geralt refused to dwell on the topic, and instead closed the worn, leather-bound notebook.

* * *

“ _ Pssst, witcher,”  _ Geralt heard a voice whispering from the back of a wagon parked on the side of a Velen road. He brought Roach to a silent halt; he was thankful that he and his horse were so in tune that a gentle tug on the reins was enough to let her know to stop. 

He looked in the direction of the silent plea, but his enhanced eyes couldn’t quite parse out what being had called to him. “ _ Over here,”  _ it said quietly, “ _ In the wagon. I could use a little help.”  _

Geralt dismounted, his curiosity piqued. He tugged a white tarp off of a cage much too tiny to comfortably house the merperson inside. 

“Jaskier--?” Geralt said, only to be hushed by the creature. “I’m charmed you remembered me, but you  _ must  _ speak quietly. My captors are awfully brutish, you know.” 

Geralt puzzled over the merman. He must have spotted him through a gap in the tarp. Geralt should note that merpeople appear to have excellent night vision. “What are you doing this far inland,” he asked, his eyes analyzing the situation. Jaskier was crammed into a small cage, his long, frilly tail drying out where it wasn’t able to submerge in the small tub of water they’d given him. Jaskier’s dainty webbed fingers wrapped pleadingly around the bars of his cage. 

“What does it look like? Do you happen to have any water? I’m parched. Look, they’ve got me in  _ swamp  _ water. I told them it wouldn’t do but the bastards didn’t seem to care. Can you believe?” 

Geralt sighed. “That’s what you’re worried about?” 

Jaskier frowned. “Well I wouldn’t mind a miraculous escape either, but that’s probably asking a little much considering our last encounter.” 

Geralt analyzed the locking mechanism. It was about as complicated as a dog crate. He undid the bolt that kept the door closed and it slowly swung open. They were both silent as it did, and after a few heartbeats, Jaskier shrugged. “Okay, now what?” 

Geralt growled, and pulled the merman into his arms bridal style. “This is going to cost you,” he clarified. 

“I don’t have any coin,” Jaskier replied matter-of-factly.

Geralt growled again. 

Jaskier’s dry tail dragged along the ground as Geralt carried him. It seemed like Jaskier attempted to lift it, but didn’t quite have the strength. He balanced the merman on Roach’s back, a task that was easier said than done, before handing him a waterskin so that he could doctor the fragile fins with some fresh water. Geralt climbed into the saddle, and Jaskier was able to wrap his arms around Geralt’s shoulders to stay steady during the ride. Geralt even stowed his swords on Roach so they wouldn’t be in the way… it’s not like he could use  _ legs  _ to steady himself on a horse like most being do. 

When all was said and done, they were able to ride away from Jaskier’s sleeping captors, none of them the wiser. “You know, I’ve never ridden a horse like this. I’m just not suited to it. It’s um, an experience.” 

Geralt had little in the way of a response. “Hm,” he said in acknowledgement. 

“It’s quite brisk, don’t you think? I’m afraid I’m a little underdressed. Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” 

Geralt looked over his shoulder where the Merman was clinging to him, but he couldn’t quite see the other creature. “Wouldn’t fit,” was all he had to say on the subject before facing the road again. 

Jaskier nodded slowly. “Ah, I see.” He was quiet for a few moments in between thoughts. “Now, as far as borrowing another’s garments is concerned,  _ too big  _ is hardly a problem.” 

“ _ Wouldn’t fit,”  _ Geralt reinforced, and Jaskier quieted. 

They were traveling through the swamp, but none of it was suited to merpeople. It was too shallow to swim through in most parts, and it was hard to discern which patches of deep water would lead to the ocean. As the dark sky was beginning to fade into a telltale aqua hue, Roach stopped on a bridge over a reed-filled waterway that looked promising. Geralt looked over the edge. “How’s this?” He asked. 

Jaskier looked over the edge. “What, for me?” He shivered. “You’d leave me in  _ there?”  _

Geralt turned to catch a glimpse of the merperson’s horrified expression. “This one would take you all the way to the ocean.” 

The water looked murky and gross. Jaskier looked between it and the witcher. “There’s  _ drowners  _ in there,” he argued, “at  _ least.”  _

“What, you can’t even handle a few drowners? Can’t you spit acid or something?” 

Jaskier looked aghast. “What kind of creature do you take me for?” 

Geralt shrugged. “One a little less useless, I suppose. Maybe if merpeople could spit acid, you wouldn’t be so rare.” He flicked Roach’s reins, urging her forward. 

“What are you implying, witcher?” 

Geralt ignored him. “My name is Geralt.” 

As if the previous tone of the conversation was forgotten, Geralt could almost feel Jaskier grow smug behind him. “Oh I already know who you are, White Wolf. Your tales are a ducat a dozen, you know.” 

“All faithful to reality, I’m sure.” 

Jaskier hummed. “From what I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Geralt was acutely aware of the smooth hum from Jaskier’s throat, as he could just barely feel like vibrations of it against his back where the merman clung to him. He couldn’t tell if it was infuriating or endearing that Jaskier didn’t seem to fear him, despite knowing his name. Normally those who recognized him had precious few kind words for his type. 

It was annoying. Jaskier  _ should  _ be afraid. Geralt was a monster hunter, and Jaskier was a monster. Maybe the creature was just stupid. Maybe all merpeople were. 

When Geralt didn’t reply, the silence turned into more humming, as if Jaskier was allergic to quiet. Geralt figures he should be annoyed by that as well… but it blended seamlessly with sounds of nature that surrounded them. It wasn’t an out of place, man-made sound among nature’s melody. Instead, it harmonized naturally. Geralt had never heard anything quite like it before. 

Of course, he couldn’t let it continue. Whether the merman intended it or not, he was using magic when he hummed, and Geralt didn’t like it when magic was used on him. 

“Stop that,” he growled. 

Jaskier pouted. “Whhhyy?” He whined. 

“If something tries to attack us, I won’t be able to hear it coming over that incessant noise.” Geralt was hesitant to admit that he could feel Jaskier’s magic working on him. 

“Why would we be attacked?” 

Geralt had to strain to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m a witcher. Something’s  _ always  _ trying to attack me. Not to mention the bandits I just stole you from. Did you forget about them?” 

“Wait a minute—  _ stole  _ me from!?”

The banter made Geralt forget that on their first encounter, he had been saving a wife from Jaskier’s supernatural charms. Geralt liked to think that kind of thing didn’t work on witchers. 

Though a part of him kind of hoped it did.

* * *

Geralt’s boat rocked gently in the calm delta waters outside of Kerack. The boat was a tiny thing, barely big enough for himself and his things. A sturdy rod rose nearly as tall as the mast, and it leaned against the edge of the vessel. All day and it had hardly bobbed at all… Geralt watched it, bored. 

Suddenly there was a tug, but then it relaxed, and Geralt watched it carefully. There was another tug, firmer this time, and the witcher sighed with annoyance. Something probably just pulled his bait off. He began reeling it in, and lo and behold, the monster-sized hook was devoid of the fish he had provided as bait. He turned around to reach for another fish, and god damn it— he jumped. Geralt of Rivia jumped. 

Jaskier was draped over the wooden edge of the tiny boat a half eaten fish in his hands. 

“Ah, Geralt! I’m flattered  _ and  _ insulted. Flattered that you went fishing for me, insulted that you used such low-class bait. Come on, pike? It’s peasant food.” He tossed the remaining portion of the fish to Geralt, who caught it out of the air. 

Geralt snarled, but he was actually a little relieved to see the creature. It meant he hadn’t gotten himself killed yet. “I wasn’t fishing for  _ you _ ,” he growled, skewering what was left of the fish onto the massive hook. “I’m looking for grindylow. Their saliva is the perfect binding agent for a poultice I need to trade for— you know what, forget it. Long story.” Geralt sat back down to watch the rod again, causing the boat to rock further. 

“Ah, surely you wouldn’t mind a little company, then. Waiting all by one’s lonesome can get dreadfully lonesome.” 

“Actually, I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Geralt said, but it was too late. Jaskier was already pulling himself over the edge of the boat. 

The effort tired him, so when he spoke next, it was a little breathy. “Uncharacteristically nice day, isn’t it.” 

This was the first time that Geralt had been able to get a proper look at Jaskier’s scales. His tail was too long to fit properly in the boat, so it draped over the boat and his delicate fins splayed out in the water. The scales were a brilliant blue and glinted in the spring sunlight, and were interrupted by smokey-black patches or rings that diversified the color profile. The scales faded into sky blue freckles that dotted his abdomen, and as Geralt trailed his eyes up, his shoulders as well. He lounged across the width of the boat, his blue-webbed hand resting delicately on the edge, and the  _ suggestion _ of claws tapping nonchalantly on the wood. 

Seemingly oblivious to the Witcher’s staring, Jaskier continued, “sun feels nice. It’s kind of novel, _ being dry _ , don’t you think? I’m already starting to feel it coming on.” 

“Mhm, I bet,” Geralt said absent-mindedly, trying to pretend like he hadn’t been studying Jaskier’s features. It was just a professional curiosity, nothing more. He averted his gaze to the pole. 

“Mind if I uh—” Jaskier gestured to the makeshift tackle box. Geralt said nothing, he only glared. “Marvelous.” Jaskier continued. 

The merperson began rooting around amongst the bait, stopping to sniff a specimen here and there. He eventually extracted a sturgeon Geralt had caught to use as bait. It was a small one, but it seemed to satisfy Jaskier. He held the fish up to his ear, and Geralt raised an eyebrow. Jaskier had to be fucking with him. 

“You going to eat this?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt glared daggers at Jaskier, but he was curious about what was happening next. He paused before deadpanning “no.” 

Jaskier happily laid back in the boat and used his claw to separate the fish down the belly, only to reveal that it was bulging with roe. He happily popped a claw full of the grainy black substance into his mouth. 

Okay, interesting. If nothing else, Geralt appreciated the opportunity to learn more about a rare creature, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Jaskier was an appropriate metric for his species. 

Geralt watched silently as Jaskier excavated the sturgeon’s cavity. Through a mouthful of roe, Jaskier said, “By the way, you’re not going to find any grindylow around here. They’re freshwater.” 

Geralt sighed. “There’s a saltwater variety. It prefers deltas like this one.” His eyes panned over the landscape as the boat lilted on the relatively calm waves. 

“I’ve lived in these waters my whole life and I’ve never seen a  _ saltwater grindylow,”  _ Jaskier scoffed. 

“Consider yourself lucky, then,” Geralt said emotionlessly. 

“I think  _ I  _ would know a little bit more about the sea than a, a…  _ land…  _ guy.” Jaskier gestured dismissively. 

Geralt shrugged. “If you say so.” But he made no move to change his tactic. As if on cue, there was a twitch at the end of his rod. 

Geralt reached for it and gave it a tug— the fishing rod, that is. It seemed like whatever had nibbled on the fish was snagged, so he started reeling back his line. He hardly noticed how much the boat rocked as he warred with the catch, but he knew whatever went for bait as large as his would be monstrous. He looked back at Jaskier to see the merperson starting to panic and grab the sides of the boat to steady himself. He turned his eyes to the rod as it dipped unrealistically low with the weight of the catch… but he knew it would never break. The shaft was enchanted to endure the most challenging of prey. 

From here on, it was an endurance run. One of them had to give first, and Geralt was sure it wasn’t going to be him. He spared another glance at Jaskier, who was pulling the rest of his tail into the boat for safekeeping. “What in God’s name is on the end of that line?” He asked, his voice betraying his fear. 

“Grindylow, I hope.” Geralt replied. The line jerked painfully in his arms, but he held tight… and the boat started moving. He looked at Jaskier. “Jaskier, the till.” He jerked his head toward a lever, but the merperson didn’t seem to understand. 

“What?” He looked between the steering mechanism and Geralt. “Push it. Away from you.  _ Hard.”  _

Jaskier hesitated, but he did it, and the boat jerked to the left and the line nearly pulled Geralt into the water. 

He strained, but he could feel the creature weakening… and then the line lost its tautness. 

“Fuck,” Geralt said, but at least he was able to relax his muscles… and so was Jaskier. 

“What happened?” Jaskier asked, but he didn’t get a response. Geralt was watching the line. 

At first, he thought he lost it… but the line was still moving in the water. 

He looked down into the murky seawater, and only had a split second to react before he realized what was coming. The water bulged out of the way as the biggest grindylow either of them had ever seen fervently broke the surface. Geralt was coated in salt water, and all the progress Jaskier had made toward drying out his messy brown hair was for naught. The huge, green, tentacled creature overtook the boat, and all Geralt had time to do was place himself between Jaskier and the monster. It’s slimy arms latched onto the sail, ripping it from the mast as it searched for its assailant. 

Geralt shielded Jaskier instinctively as he drew his silver sword and braved for combat. The monster roared a gurgling, guttural roar from its wide, toothy maw. Though it was the size of a horse  _ at least _ , it was obvious that it was at a tactical disadvantage while it was still perched on the tiny boat… but that wouldn’t last much longer. The boat was beginning to crack under the weight of the dense sea monster. 

It had already dipped enough to begin taking water, so they were sinking, but not rapidly. Geralt swung, and the cut was shallow, but it seemed to burn the creature. The grindylow hissed and whipped one of its tentacles towards Geralt, but it was easily dispatched. The other tentacles gripped the boat. The mast snapped in half and the edges splintered, but Geralt concentrated on the monster… he had an innocent to protect. 

Jaskier was whimpering behind him. The boat was so tilted that Geralt and Jaskier were pushed to the vertical end. Geralt took another stab at the Grindylow before teasing the mer behind him. “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you live in this water?” 

Jaskier had to shout over the gurgling and splashing coming from the monster. “I don’t want to be in the water with  _ that!  _ Geralt, kill it!” 

Geralt lunged for the huge hook that was still dangling out of the creature's mouth and used it as leverage to send his sword straight through to the other side. Almost immediately, everything started to still, save for the slow sinking of the boat. Jaskier slid into the water, but remained cautious. Geralt was relieved to find that dead Grindylow float. 

He and Jaskier shared a look. Geralt couldn’t help but smirk as he spoke in that deep, gravelly voice. “Told you so.”

Jaskier smiled back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Might fuck around and write some more for this if anyone likes it. Maybe it’ll turn into something. Who can say ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
